


The Effect of Lipids on the Scientific Mind

by ArtHistory



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Boys In Love, Jeans, Kink Discovery, Kitchen Sex, Love, M/M, Quarantine, Quarantine Weight, Science, Science Kink, Weight Gain, Weight Kink, Worship, science talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 09:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30002496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: It's a miraculous thing, the human body. Lipids, fat molecules, smaller than cells, build up to create adipocytes - the cells that make up adipose tissue. It only makes sense to be fascinated by them. This is even more the case if said lipids are building up at a rather high rate within the body of your radio host husband, who has been working from home for a good, long while.Lust for the growing, changing, beautiful body of a man within. Please comment if you enjoy!
Relationships: Carlos & Cecil Palmer, Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	The Effect of Lipids on the Scientific Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DelightfulExcess (SevereStorms)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevereStorms/gifts).



Carlos was, if nothing else, a scientist. And science, in his mind, was nothing short of a miracle. Especially now, working from home with his lover during such times. Science was more important than ever before!

And the body! What a magnificent thing! The human body and its ability to create cells. To grow hair and nails. The human brain! Powered through sugar and cholesterol! 

Lipids, fat molecules, smaller than cells, build up to create adipocytes - the cells that make up adipose tissue! Hormones also changed the way an individual stores fat cells in their tissues so testosterone tends to store it in smooth layers while estrogen is more of a matrix shape. Hence why XX individuals tend to be more prone to cellulite. Why higher testosterone levels madee fat so wide and smooth... They could be white fat or brown fat. Brown fat metabolizing energy to produce warmth around the core, allowing our ancestors - and us! - heat during the winter.

The addition and storage of adipose tissue. That was a beautiful thing. A brilliant and fascinating process of how the human body can truly - truly! - do so much to create and foster life.

That was the only reason his eyes were so very locked onto his husband’s ass as it  **stretched** his blue jeans to the absolute limit.

Carlos’ fingers twitched, bending around his palm as if, on instinct, he was prepared to simply  **latch** onto those two, decadent mounds of warm, white fat and never let go. Carlos felt his heart pound. Thumping with such ferocity in his chest, Carlos heard his blood thundering in his ears as his Cecil popped his hip, watched as the seams stretched so tight around the radio host’s rump simply  **screamed** for release. The dark-haired, Mexican man felt his felt moving him across the cool tile of his and Cecil’s shared kitchen, the radio host’s rich, rumbling humming vibrating up his legs and filling his entire body with an electric  **need,** moving towards his husband slowly, brain whirring with thoughts, some trying to will the scientist back into his normal, calm state. But others?

Others were reminding him of relevant, necessary scientific information.

Fat cells having the ability to plump up, or to slim down, Carlos reminded himself. These new, gorgeously round cells that his Cecil had created, grown,  **fed** into existence could very easily shrink, returning his husband to his pre-work-from-home state of waifish, ethereal blonde. But then, Carlos’ scientific mind reminded him, there was the fact that adipose cells don't ever truly go away unless they age out and die. They just slim down when one loses weight. That’s why it was so easy for people who’ve lost weight to gain it back.

“Carlos?” His lover was saying now, Cecil’s head cocking to one side, watching his normally stoic, serious, husband’s Adam’s apple bob as Carlos gave a long, difficult swallowing. His mouth was dry. His pupils like dinner plates, chest heaving with needy, desperate huffs and puffs.

The pouch of cookies clutched in his Cecil’s pale fingers, already opened. 700? 800 calories of sugary, fatty, chocolatey goodness which would be gone in mere seconds had Carlos not interrupted his Cecil’s “little” snack break.

Even once this was over. Once things settled back into the way things were. Cecil would still have that...potential. Those cells his body had worked so hard to grow and nurture, even if Cecil could get his eating back down, could pick up an exercise regimen those slimmed down cells would still be there, ready and eager to round back out into the full, nourished, perfectly shaped spheres that….that…

Carlos’ mouth found Cecil’s, moving against those pink lips with a heat, a passion the man so rarely allowed to bubble to the surface.

That puddle of sweet cream that softened his husband’s chin from a sharp, aggressive line into something Carlos was eagerly nipping, lips moving up to gently rounded cheeks, all definition on his handsome Cecil’s face lost, blending into a rounded, somehow more perfect version that let the warmth of him shine through. 

Cecil gasped, tipping his head back to expose the gorgeous, ivory expanse of his neck. Carlos’ lips accepted the open invitation, tasting the softened flesh there as brown hands found their way to jeans-clad thighs.

“Cecil” He moaned, voice tight, breathy as his palms  **sank** into the decadence of Cecil’s thighs, the radio host’s hands gliding into, tugging at the Mexican scientist’s thick, dark locks, letting Carlos easily heft him up and onto counter, both men groaning - Cecil because his husband  **sucked** a dark, purple mark into his neck. Carlos because of the way his lover  **bulged** now that he was sitting.

Cecil’s thighs  **spread** along the counter below him, Carlos frantically tugging at the man’s purple, V-neck tee, tugging it up and over and nearly  **keening** as so much  **Cecil** spilled forward into the open air. Doughy love handles  **rolled** over the hem of Cecil’s achingly tight jeans, the radio hosts hands clawing at the tiny, kitchen-window curtain behind him as Carlos’ hands found, gripped,  **wobbled** all the vanilla pudding stacked along the radio host’s sides. Cecil’s once lithe form was gone, buried to the point one would simply guess he was a chubby, round,  **rotund** figure naturally, not that he was a thin man that had stacked on pound after pound after pound, happily munching and crunching his way through the day in and around sitting on his ever-widening ass in their at-home radio booth.

Cecil’s arms were soft as Carlos slid his palms to them, testing the give of once defined, bony limbs that were part of the living monument to decadence that was his husband. Balancing his hands on the doughy fullness of Cecil’s biceps, Carlos’ head ducked down, knees bending gently as his mouth locked onto Cecil’s chest. From nonexistent, trim and toned pec to what was now a perky, full  **breast** was sending Carlos’ mind fizzling and popping. Carlos’ hands slid down to press, squash,  **fondle** the full heft of his lover’s perfect moobs, nose burying itself into cleavage he never imagined he’d have the sheer pleasure to feel. Carlos’ hands and mouth continued to explore southward, finally experiencing the sheer  **girth** of Cecil’s  **gut** . 

And what a gut it was.

Carlos heard his husband whine out his name, those pale hands obsessively finding his thick, curly hair once again as Carlos’ face and hands  **sank** into the rich, delicious vanilla of his Cecil’s belly. Mouth kissing and hands kneading all that dough, Carlos’ lips and palms  **worshipped** every ounce and centimeter of Cecil he could find - 

And thank the Glow Cloud there was a lot of them.

“So beautiful, so  **big** , my Cecil. So perfect.” Carlos purred, pressing his cheek into the churning sea of Cecil’s gut, knees finding tile and hands gliding along the overflowing lard that crashed like a white wave over Cecil’s jeans. Carlos’ teeth sank so eagerly into that thick lip of cream as his nimble fingers swiftly undid the aching button of those jeans, sending that gut spilling forward and freeing his husband’s furious cock.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, looking up towards his husband’s flushed cheeks, heat pooling at his groin as both men realized Cecil’s belly was obscuring their view.

“They, well...wouldn’t button if I wore anything under them.” Cecil gulped, looking sheepish, his cock  **pulsing** in Carlos’ fist at the admission.

“Gods Cecil,” Carlos breathed, locking eyes with his husband over the wide, white dome of Cecil’s gut,the radio host’s breath caught in his meaty chest, Cecil’s perfect, white teeth sliding over his pink lips as Carlos’ tongue licked a long, slow stripe up Cecil’s aching cock, Carlos’ own quickly fished out of his tented pants and lubed with the fat pearl of precum that had been decorating its head since he saw Cecil’s overfed ass wobbling in the air just minutes ago.

“You are so. Fucking.  **Fat** !” Carlos growled, launched his mouth down the shaft of Cecil’s cock with such speed and ferocity that it had Cecil screaming out the Mexican scientist’s name. Cecil’s hands locked onto Carlos’ perfect hair as the scientist bobbed, pumped both their cocks, moaning around Cecil’s cock every time his dark forehead met the wide, ivory expanse of his lover’s fattened form. 

Cecil’s tits bounced on his chest, his  **overstretched** , ruined abdominals crying out as Cecil attempted to flex them in his blind haze of arousal, finding them too bloated, too distended to ever return to their tight, tiny, lithe position. His ass  **rocked** in his jeans, fly tearing itself apart as the quaking mass of lard packed into it bucked against the ecstasy of Carlos’ clever mouth and tongue. The radio host’s thighs slammed,  **squeezed** around his husband’s head, smothering him in what felt like miles and miles of packed, warm blubber, Carlos only pausing his bobbing to pop himself off the head of Cecil’s dick and bite a claiming mark into the man’s thigh, a dark, wet mark left in his desperately overextended jeans.

“C-Carlos! I-I can’t- Fuck I-” Cecil cried, hands gripping tighter and tighter on the man’s perfect hair before Carlos was quickly swallowing down his husband’s seed.

The Mexican man buried his face into his lover’s thighs, kissing, mouthing, smothering himself into the rich, thick, decadent fat there before he too was spilling himself onto the tiled floor.

They rested there a moment, Cecil’s blonde head leaning back against the frame of the kitchen’s window, his husband pressed neatly into his overfed crotch, hand running up and down the thickened flesh of his calf. Sated, happy, both men letting their eyes flutter closed, basking in the afterglow of-

**Growl** .

Carlos leaned back, looking up at a very sheepish radio host and the source of the sound - Cecil’s bulging gut.

“I...can you pass me my cookies?” Cecil asked, pointing to the open bag, dropped to the floor and forgotten in their impromptu love-making.

Carlos chuckled. Then obliged. Moving his hands to his thighs, then standing, he pressed a hand to Cecil’s lower belly, leaning in and kissing him as the man attempted to move from the counter.

“No no, wait here. I’m going to call us in some takeout.” He insisted, sliding the bag into Cecil’s palm before bringing his hands to the man’s face, kissing him soundly.

“How much takeout, exactly?” Cecil said, his newfound figure’s effects dawning on him as he moved his calves around Carlos’ lower back, tugging the man into his doughy form.

Carlos whined, his heart beginning to thunder once again.

“A lot. A whole lot.” Carlos swallowed, his hands sliding down his husband’s sides to rub along his gut.

Carlos was, if nothing else, a scientist.

And who was he to not worship the very cells which kept his love alive?


End file.
